


and there's no place like home for the holidays

by tiredzaya



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Fluff, aymeric bakes things!, starlight fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 01:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22007389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredzaya/pseuds/tiredzaya
Summary: what do you do when you don't have the time to find a present for someone? panic a lot, that's whata gift for @to-the-voiceless on tumblr!!! hanami is their character
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 9





	and there's no place like home for the holidays

“Ser,” Lucia says among the thick silence of the Borel manor kitchen. “Perhaps this is a bit… excessive?”

Aymeric, seated in front of a good amount of books detailing Doman culture for gifts and holidays, rests his head in his weary hands and sighs. Lucia nudges his cup of tea towards him before leaning back, continuing her light reading as he slowly accepts the unsweetened tea. She may be right, but then how long would it take to come up with a new idea for a present?

“Your time may be better spent perusing the Jeweled Crozier, Ser. Finding something Doman in nature at this time of year may be harder than you think without one of the Warriors to retrieve it for you.” Lucia says as she flips another page in her book. Something about the mishaps of two Gridanian children as they search for the meaning of Starlight or whatnot. According to Lucia, Hilda had recommended the tale after it made its rounds through the Temple Knights.

“‘Tis true, but I feel something nostalgic would be more welcome than a trinket so easily found.” Aymeric squints at some detailed drawing in the book directly beneath his face, noting the plum trees and shallow lakes. What a breathtaking sight. “Perhaps I could call upon Madame Tataru’s connections…”

Lucia, for all her patience, scoffs at his latest idea, sliding a bookmark in-between pages and setting her book on the counter. Aymeric looks up in the corners of his eyes to see her endearingly irritated, as Lumelle once had called it.

“I had also thought Lady Hanami would appreciate most anything you’d choose just for her. A gift need not be perfect to give someone joy, and I fail to think a gift less than a reminder of home would displease her.” Lucia says as Aymeric lifts his head from his hands, eyes brightening up at the small amount of hope Lucia has given him; really, he shouldn’t have been so pessimistic in the first place.

“I… suppose. Mayhaps I overthought this time.” Aymeric sheepishly looks around at the number of books that he’s taken from the Scions’ library to further his own research. Hopefully a delivery moogle will be willing to take these back to Tataru.

“As you do. There is no shame in wanting to give someone you love the best, but.” Lucia taps the corners of her eyes while looking straight at Aymeric. “That is also what brings stress during Starlight for most.”

As the clock in Aymeric’s kitchen strikes four in the afternoon, Lucia and he laugh at the idea of “beautiful” Aymeric gaining wrinkles from stress despite all the paperwork awaiting him in the Congregation office, and then immediately shoot to their feet, realizing it is _four_ and they are expected back at the Congregation for another meeting in no later than five minutes.

Aymeric has time to decide on a present to give. He will be fine.

* * *

It is a good two weeks or so of dedicated paperwork filing and controlling the eager lords in debate until Aymeric has the chance to continue looking for the perfect gift to give Hanami. He had hoped to find more time between his duties as Speaker and Lord Commander with Handeloup and Lucia’s wonderful assistance, but the newer lords of the minor Houses are much too determined for shortened gatherings, or lengthened vacations. The fact that the House of Lords was even on winter break now was owned to House Fortemps and Haillenarte finally putting down their foot and stopping the younger lords from continuing to throw rhetoric like bricks at Aymeric.

“Holiday shopping at the last moment, my lord? I thought you more prepared.” Hilda sneaks around the yellow canvas of the floral stand as Aymeric tiredly looks at a few colorful gladiolus. Would it be to Hanami’s tastes if he were to get flowers? Or would that be in poor taste of her name?

“Our House of Lords has finally taken winter break, and none too soon. I haven’t the time between the moments until now to truly look around.” Aymeric says without looking to meet ruby red eyes, Hilda soon joining him at admiring the floral displays of some poor merchant who’d have the misfortune to walk away at the moment they come around. Shame; Aymeric very much would have preferred the help of a professional.

After a few more moments of dizzying himself with cotton candy pinks and blizzard ice blues, Hilda slowly takes his arm and tugs him away from the flowers and towards rich and warm smells. For a small machinist lady, she is rather strong…

“Wouldn’t hurt to have a bite, eh? Might help you think, with that cookbook of a brain you’ve got!” Hilda points out, clearly remembering when he made rounds in the Brume with holiday cookies from last week. “Heard Lord Francel fancies the new pineapple fritters Miss Norlaise has got, if you’re interested.”

The smell of sweet pineapples is surely tempting as they approach Madame Norlaise’s stall, a small crowd of children gathering round for warm cookies or small cakes to bring home and devour. Aymeric steps behind a small group of three excited children as they receive their box of candied fruits, waiting patiently as they cry a jumbled ‘thank you!’ to Madame Norlaise just before leaving. Hilda laughs as she watches them scrabble a little, all wanting part of the sweets.

“Good day, Ser! Something warm catch your fancy?” Norlaise lifts up a jar of candied berries as he takes a second glance at her small display. “Mayhaps a gift box for a beloved?”

Aymeric chuckles as he takes a sack of gil from his pocket. “Something warm, aye. A serving of pineapple fritters, if you would.”

He places down enough money for two when he finally counts out the gil, and Norlaise raises an eyebrow before Aymeric tilts his head slightly to where Hilda stands, still watching as some of the children come back around in caroling outfits. She nods as she turns to get to work, leaving Aymeric to enjoy the children singing and Hilda clapping as they finish. Perhaps he could take Hanami to listen to the Ishgardian choir in the Vault; ah, but her horn…

Madame Norlaise sets down two small boxes of fritters in front of him, smelling heavenly and adorned with ribbons to look like twinkleboxes, ready to be unwrapped. “Your order, Ser. Do have a wonderful day, and happy Starlight!”

Aymeric nods, taking his purchase over to Hilda and placing one of the two boxes into her hands. Her eyes grow wide, lighting up quite like fireflies as she eagerly unwraps the steaming fritters.

With that, Aymeric has the pleasure of Hilda’s continued company as he goes to the jeweler’s stall (all things Hanami could easily outdo with her own goldsmithing skills), then to the armorer’s (“Who buys their partner armor for Starlight, ser?”), and then, after all else fails, back to the baker’s stall as Hilda once again reminds him that he could _bake_ something.

“Her disdain for sweets prevents me from doing much else than bread,” Aymeric rambles as he racks his brain for something that might well work as a present. Bread just seems… half-hearted to him, with how many times he’s made it with her watching patiently behind. “A challenge of my skills may very well be in order.”

“S’not that hard to make a sweet treat sour, my lord.” Hilda says with part of a fritter still in her mouth, pointing at the display that Norlaise has across from them. Specifically, she points at a lemon and rolanberry pie, steaming from its stand and decorated with bright white whipped cream. “Lucia said the pie drew a shocking similarity to lemonade; doesn’t seem all that hard either. If you fancy a challenge after the verbal whipping some of the other highborns gave you, I’d say you’ve come to _like_ punishing yourself.”

Aymeric sighs, shaking his head as Hilda laughs at his misery; she’d seen the younger of the lords chase him through Foundation to the Pillars in an attempt to finish their points despite two of the older lords telling them off already. He’d listened to them, certainly, and then forgotten them almost completely after getting home to a good book and Mandragora.

As he returns to flipping through mental baking ideas, Hilda gives him a small wave and wanders off, clearly intent to return to her city guard duties with her remaining fritters. He stays against the wall opposite of Madame Norlaise’s stand with his own fritters much like a gargoyle for a good bell as he thinks, rethinks, and ruffles his hair. The smells are all melting together in his head, and imagining something not so sugary sweet as the snow mounds some of the children walk past with is starting to become difficult, so Aymeric, tired and still presentless, walks home in thick, fluffy snow.

He has one last day to decide on what to give her. He will be fine.

* * *

The very next morning Aymeric realizes he does not, in fact, have a full day to figure it out.

He goes on a morning trip to the Jeweled Crozier to grab a bite—his steward is taking the day off for family—and to perhaps peruse the markets in needless worry for something that might be a better present to give, and as with the last few days, he leaves the Crozier with naught but groceries and a basket of oranges—he was so caught up in finding a gift before the day was done that he bought citrus instead of cranberries. No matter; Hanami had seemed to like the last set of oranges he’d left out in the kitchen, so perhaps she’d scoff these down with the same fervor.

And then Aymeric runs into the captor of his thoughts in the aetheryte plaza when running a small errand to the Temple Knights stationed at Saint Reinette Forum, accompanied by two who appeared to be—from where he stood about thirty yalms away—Lunya and Zaya.

The gala wasn’t until late that evening, and Aymeric was under the impression that the three of them would not be arriving until closer to four in the afternoon! Had he heard Hanami wrong all those weeks ago?

Lunya points Aymeric out to the other two Warriors as he remains in a standstill, debating whether or not to run in order to buy himself more time to think, but Hanami runs over much too quickly with her hands keeping a dress garment cover from flying off into the light snow. From under the plastic cover, Aymeric swears he’d caught a glimpse of silken pink fabric, but with how Hanami’s sworn off the color pink from here on out, he might simply have mistaken a bit of red for pink.

“You are out early.” Hanami says, coldfire eyes blazing bright and pinched at the corners; perhaps she was more tired than she’d prefer to show? “Do you still have work to do? Is that kid from House Dzmael stretching your meetings again?”

“Nay, we’ve already entered our winter break.” Aymeric says, waving politely at Zaya and Lunya as they make to leave through teleporting behind Hanami. “Albeit later than usual. Would you like to accompany me home, or do you have other plans for right now?”

Hanami shakes her head, falling in step with him as he walks casually on the path back home. At his request, she starts to pour out a few more of her tales from the First, filling in the empty air as light snow sticks to his hair and gloves. Their footsteps would easily trail a while back, but he hopes that by tonight the squall will finally settle in and drape Ishgard in a smooth white in time for the gala. The sparkling snow would make for a lovely sight to look out upon.

As they approach Aymeric’s doorway, Hanami goes to hang her dress (?) off of his pauldrons—he doesn’t mind much, with how often he hangs things there himself—and opens up the door for him, clearly taking note of the ridiculous number of bags he’s brought home. Hanami doesn’t seem to notice the large basket of oranges he carries through, not attempting to grab for one of the sweet fruits as he walks into the kitchen to set everything down.

“My sunrise,” Aymeric calls out, noticing she’s been standing in the doorway the whole time he’s been putting away some of the foodstuffs before he forgets. “Have you come in? The wind is carrying to the kitchen.”

A small grumble follows the door slamming shut, then clanking footsteps as Hanami’s pauldrons tap heavily on the wooden floor of the house. She comes to the kitchen, where Aymeric has set down a small plate of snacks meant for later, and picks up a few crackers before eagerly shoving them into her mouth.

“S’rry. It is cold here now.” Hanami crunches slowly through the crackers as Aymeric turns, giving her a soft smile. He does not mind much, thanks to growing up here; he was a bit more worried that Hanami had simply collapsed from the headache she seems to have.

“‘Tis alright, my light. Would you like to relocate your snacking to the fireplace?” He gestures to the living room farther in, where the fire has been crackling since he woke this morning. Hanami quickly takes the small platter and moves to the warmer lands of his couch as he finishes up with his groceries. The oranges remain on the table, but that is quickly reconsidered when Aymeric notices that he bought _sour_ oranges and not the small, sweet ones that Hanami eats up like candy. What can he do with these now? It’s not as if he planned to bake anything with this many oranges…

He sets the oranges by the other baking ingredients, resolving to solve that dilemma later.

When Aymeric enters his living room, he is greeted by the sight of Hanami,haphazardly spread out on his couch under blankets and pillows. Adorably so, in his opinion, but likely to soak in all the precious warmth she’d lost out in the Ishgardian winter; snow is not kind to those with lizard-like features, as the Scions had remarked about their scaled friends. With her sleeping like a log, however, he has no place to sit down with her, so he simply returns to the kitchen with the plate of crumbs Hanami has left in her wake.

“Now, what to do with you…” Aymeric goes back to face the basket of oranges once again, sighing as he realizes it has barely been five minutes since he left them here. He feels much too restless for someone supposed to be on break; his hands crave something to fiddle with, so he picks up one of the oranges, tossing it around in his hands.

And he still has the dilemma of Hanami’s gift and retrieving it before the gala; he can’t just very well get up and leave, either, with Hanami sleeping so peacefully here. Leaving her seems like a rather rude thing to do, so he’s left with what’s in the manor.

Not books; that is a cruel and unusual punishment, to gift someone Ishgardian print books when they can barely read the Ishgardian alphabet out loud. In fact, much of what he has would seem… odd. Hilda’s remarks at his odd shopping habits from yesterday come back to haunt him, except this time about his belongings; _Why books that are old enough to be her grandparents? Really now, a pair of slippers? Have you truly lost it?_

Perhaps Hilda was not so rude, but the mere thought is enough to give him a laugh as he scans over his baking books, crammed into a shelf on the corner of his kitchen.

Then Aymeric catches the remnants of his box of fritters from the other day, and he has an idea of what to do in the bells between Hanami’s eventual awakening and his abundance of energy. The crust would take a bit of work, and the toppings would have to be sweetened, in all honesty, but he has time. It is almost ten in the morning; the pie should be done by half past three if he starts now.

Aymeric finds himself going much faster than he had intended, and a good bit messier than he’d prefer; the oranges take a while to open, and his hands slip with the knife on the butter, but he gets through it. Certainly a challenge, though not in the way he’d imagined. For him to have more trouble keeping his nerve while making a treat for a dear one than in the middle of four different High Houses all trying to get him to approve of their idea; the lords would have made fun of him!

At some point that Aymeric doesn’t realize, Hanami wakes up and shuffles her sleepy self over to the chair set by the countertop. In his flitting about the kitchen in a rush to get the pie in the oven, he barely notices her, not even when he has to look for his whisk and she hands it right to him. A mumbled ‘thanks’ slips from his mouth, but otherwise he makes no other notice of her.

That is, until he finally gets the pie in the oven. The moment the oven starts to heat up and bake the sweet, Aymeric finds the eyes staring at him more noticeable than before.

“Forgive me, my sunrise.” Aymeric sighs out, brushing off some flour before leaning on the counter to look Hanami in the eyes. “I hardly noticed you there. Have you been watching for a long time now?”

“Not too long. Your work was much more entertaining than sleep was, though.” Hanami smiles sleepily as the smell of oranges starts to bake into the air. “Why the pie? Was there not enough sweets for the gala already?”

Aymeric stiffens a bit, despite the complaints of his already tired back. “That was… a gift.”

“Oh? A present?”

“Yes; my schedule was… packed this year, and I haven’t the time anymore to buy something, so a handmade gift will have to do.”

“Is it for Lucia? Oh, or perhaps for House Fortemps?”

Aymeric winces at the shortsightedness of his thoughts. He’d forgotten theirs, as well; a batch of cookies in the next few days ought to do it, though. They were not the cranky elders of the less-than-friendly houses, and he knew both parties personally; he can apologize without seeming rude.

“‘Tis a gift… for you, my sunrise.” Aymeric sheepishly admits, the orange smell wafting around as he speaks. “I had a lack of ideas, and when you’d come home early, I panicked quite a bit. The oranges were a saving grace, I must admit; perhaps I would have made more bread without them.”

Hanami laughs, not daring to leave him in awkward yet surprised silence. “You were stuck in your head, hm? Perhaps this will help you learn. The pie, knowing you, will be perfect. Thank you.”

“I suppose, yes. Happy Starlight, my sunrise.”

And when the pie finished baking, the smell of oranges and rolanberries was not sweeter than the moments shared waiting at the counter for the telltale ‘ding’ of the oven.


End file.
